


catch me falling

by breakmystrings



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakmystrings/pseuds/breakmystrings
Summary: Auston can almost see the headlines now: Omega becomes bumbling idiot when told his alpha crush endorses him to be Captain.





	catch me falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BenBitchops](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenBitchops/gifts).

> BenBitchops, I really hope you enjoy the fic! It was a blast writing this for you (even when it was struggle) <3
> 
> Thank you to [fuhrmana](https://fuhrmana.tumblr.com/) for being so supportive and helping me clean this up; all remaining mistakes are my own.

The quote blows up.

It’s Auston’s fault, really. What did he expect by telling the Toronto media that he was ready for the “C” when he was asked? It’s not like he followed that up with how the letter doesn’t matter and that he’ll be the same person on and off the ice. Doesn’t matter that he endorsed all the other likely candidates on the team and said they’d be lucky to have any of them as their captain. It’s the “Auston Matthews believes he deserves to be the Captain of the Maple Leafs” that makes the news. And honestly, that’s on Auston for not knowing better.

*

Auston spends the next few weeks aggressively ignoring any and all press about hockey. His family knows not to bring it up, apart from asking about his training and how that’s going. Judd knows better than to bother Auston with anything that isn’t life shattering either. It makes for a nice, peaceful summer.

He doesn’t ignore the group chat entirely, because there’s always wedding photos that he wants to see and vacation stories he laughs about, but he generally ignores all references to hockey stories. For his own sanity’s sake. He does get a few chirps from the boys calling him Captain America, but he takes it as seriously as Mitch takes the Mighty Mouse jokes. He figures Mitch will let him know if there’s anything he really needs to hear about.

That’s why he has no clue what the media is talking about when they corner him at training camp with a bunch of microphones and ask about Mitch’s quote after a cursory what has he been up to all summer.

“Auston, what did you think about Mitch’s endorsement for you to be captain?” Mark asks, or at least he’s pretty sure it’s Mark (hard to tell from the crowd). Every time he talks to Auston, he always sneaks in a few questions about Mitch in there, like he’s the main star. Auston likes Mark.

“I actually haven’t seen it,” Auston says honestly. He’s pretty sure it’s nothing though. Mitch never breaks character in front of the media. Always stays in his lane and never says anything controversial. They still love to interview him for some reason, like they can’t get enough of “work the D harder”, “get pucks in deep”, “more shots on net” and whatever other bland hockey clichés he can think of.

Auston suddenly feels like he’s looking into a sea of sharks that sense blood in the water, except these are Toronto reporters who look like they struck narrative gold here. A bunch of them scramble to get their phones out and Auston takes the one closest to him warily. It looks like a clip of a radio show with Mitch on the phone.

“So what did you think about Auston’s quote about how he feels ready for the ‘C’ if it’s given to him?”

At least Andi didn’t put words in his mouth, but it still makes something unpleasant twist in Auston’s stomach, like he fucked up somehow.

“I think he’d be great,” Mitch says, his voice tinny and rough through the speakers. “He’s so important to our team. We go as he goes. We wouldn’t be a team without him and he carries the pressure of playing in Toronto so well. I don’t get a vote, but if I did, it’d be for him for sure.”

Auston can see how delighted Andi looks even on the tiny screen. “So dynamics wise, you don’t think there’ll be any problems?”

“Absolutely not. If anyone were to have an issue, I’m sure I won’t be the only one they’d have to go through. In the room, it doesn’t matter what dynamic you are, whether you’re an omega or an alpha or a beta. Doesn’t matter. Everyone is the same. Auston has done a lot for the team. His play on the ice speaks for itself, but his presence in the room is even more important. He’d carry the ‘C’ as well as anyone, and he’s the most deserving on the team as well.”

The clip ends.

That’s not a typical Mitch response.

Auston feels warm and pleased all over, from the inside radiating out, and it's all because of some simple praise; he suddenly wishes he hadn’t spent all summer ignoring his own news. If he didn't, he could've been prepared for this moment so that he wouldn't be caught with his pants down right now, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable in front of the predatory media. He keeps his head down as he fights the warmth from heating his cheeks, and he takes a few seconds to pull himself together. He’s never been more relieved for the league-mandated suppressants that’s masking his scent right now.

When Auston looks up, he can see everyone watching him expectedly, phones and mics raised so close that it’s almost suffocating.

Auston clears his throat.

“I mean, that’s great for Mitch to say. He’s a great friend and teammate. If he were to be given the ‘C’, it would absolutely be deserving as well.”

Everyone looks disappointed by his response.

PR finally intercepts before Auston can say anything truly embarrassing, thank god.

Auston can almost see the headlines now: Omega becomes bumbling idiot when told his alpha crush endorses him to be Captain.

*

If someone were to ask Auston, he’s not sure he can pinpoint exactly when he realized his feelings for Mitch extended beyond really good bros and into, well, what it is _now_. It happened so gradually, like he fell slowly but surely, this buildup that was as natural as spring giving way to summer, as ice turning into water and back again as the seasons change. Auston can’t even pinpoint when it happened, just that one morning he woke up and suddenly he was struck with this feeling that he was surely and irrevocably in love with his best friend. No grand moment, no freak out; just this feeling of _oh_.

Maybe Mitch is just an easy person to love, the way he brightens up every room he walks into. Maybe it's because of the way Mitch always had his back, no questions asked. Maybe it's the way Auston would always laugh a little harder, a lot less restrained, whenever he was around him. Maybe it's the way Mitch always knew when he needed to push Auston and when he needed to give him space, the way his heart was never too full to insert more of Auston into his life, the way it was never too full for _anyone_, like there was enough space in there for the entire world and then some.

Or maybe it started when Auston told Mitch that he didn’t walk behind alphas because he hated how demeaning it felt, like he _needed_ to be led, and Mitch didn’t even flinch and agreed like it was as easy as breathing. Maybe it's the way Mitch never saw the labels that people liked to attach to Auston since the day he was born, the way he made Auston feel like _Auston_, first and foremost, like that was all that mattered. Maybe it was always inevitable right from the first moment they met, when Auston knew Mitch was special as soon as he laid eyes on him.

*

The captaincy news dies down, thank god. Also, there’s like, way better storylines to write about, like how John-fucking-Tavares is now a Maple Leaf. Of course, that introduces a whole bunch of other shitty narratives, like how JT is much more suited to be captain, what with him being an alpha and a former captain and all, like experience is suddenly a prerequisite for wearing a letter. Or how Mitch must be wired wrong because two alphas don’t typically play on the same line, like they might go feral at each other in the middle of the game over a puck. Auston seriously questions the intelligence of Toronto media sometimes.

“Looking forward to playing on the same team as you,” JT says with a small smile. Auston grabs his hand and gives him a bro hug. If there were cameras here, Auston imagines they’d be going off like crazy to craft a brand new narrative since the “best friends, best mates?” has probably gone stale.

“Same,” Auston says. “You’re going to have to show me a few tricks, with the way you protect the puck.”

“Oh, for sure. Anytime.” He looks earnest and serious. Auston wonders how long it’ll take for Mitch to break him and get him cracking jokes with the rest of them. He gives it until maybe the end of preseason.

He feels someone shove him from behind, and without even looking, he knows it’s Mitch. He gives him a dirty look as he turns around, but he can’t help cracking a grin when he sees Mitch’s big smile. The summer did him wonders, adding bulk back onto his skinny frame and his skin has gone from ghostly to just pasty. Auston feels his heart flip anyway. Mitch is practically vibrating with all that pent-up energy and Auston leans in for a hug before he can really think about it. Mitch squeezes him back almost immediately, just as tightly, if not more so.

Auston sucks in a deep breath. This early into the season, the suppressants they’re on haven’t completely masked their scents. He can still smell faint hints of Mitch’s scent when they’re this close, the crisp clean air and fresh winter snow with a sprinkling of pine. It’s so different than the scents that Auston grew up with, the warm earthy scents from Arizona, but maybe because it’s so different, it draws Auston closer and closer towards it. It makes him feel centered, more balanced, like he’s finally back to equilibrium. None of that teetering back and forth that made his nerves scream.

Someone clears their throat loudly and completely fake behind them. It startles them apart and Mitch smiles awkwardly up at him. Auston wants to pull him back in, his hands reaching out for him before his brain kicks back in and slaps his hands down. He hates that he’s not allowed to. He’s not even sure why anymore. They aren’t rookies on the team anymore, they’re not fighting for a roster spot and proving everyone else wrong about how the Leafs made a mistake on them, how Mitch was too weak for an alpha and Auston was too strong-willed for an omega. Auston doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder anymore, doesn’t need to strut out with an alpha behind his back like he’s posturing to an audience that he shouldn’t give a damn about.

“Welcome back,” Mitch says eventually. Auston wishes he could smell him again, to dig through the shields of their suppressants and just, _breathe_ Mitch in. His knees feel weak just thinking about it.

“Good to be back.” Auston’s not sure when Toronto suddenly began to feel so much like home. Being back comforts him, like he’s back to where he belongs, and he’s not sure if it’s because of Toronto or if it’s because of Mitch, like Auston’s home is wherever he is.

*

The season starts with a bang. They’re clicking on all cylinders, their power play is unreal, and Auston feels like every puck he touches turns into gold as he snipes them into the net, again and again. It feels like flying, like there’s nothing Auston can’t do. The media even start seriously talking about putting the “C” on Auston’s jersey, like all he needed to do to be deserving was score a bunch of goals, like he hadn’t already done that in his first two seasons on the team.

And then he gets hurt.

“Fuck Trouba,” Mitch swears under his breath as he fusses over Auston. His hands are gentle as he helps Auston stumble into the car even if his tone is harsh. He sounds just as pissed as Auston feels. The meds help when they finally kick in, dulling the pain into nothing more than an ache as he falls into the seat with a wince. Mitch checks his sling, like he thinks he’s some kind of doctor, and Auston would chuckle if he didn’t feel like dying right now. Fuck he hates getting hurt. He would like to make it a full season without getting _something_.

Fuck Trouba indeed.

“I’m going to put your seatbelt on, okay?”

Auston nods. His eyelids suddenly feel too heavy, like someone put tiny little weights on them. He fights to keep them open. Is this considered benching? Can he work his muscles there? Auston will have to ask the trainers.

“You look deranged,” Mitch huffs but Auston can see a bit of a smile. It feels kind of like winning the lottery, to be honest. It’s easy to make Mitch smile, but Auston feels like he does it better and more often than anyone else. Like, if there was a Stanley Cup for Mitch Marner smiles, Auston would sweep the competition.

Auston hears the seatbelt click into place and he has to look down before he actually registers what just happened. Mitch pats his good arm gently. “Rest. I’ll wake you up when we’re at your place.” There’s a hint of command in his voice, and normally it would piss Auston off, except coming from Mitch, Auston just wants to melt into a pile of goop and do everything he says because he knows he’ll be rewarded with that megawatt smile and Mitch looking all pleased and proud of him.

“Okay.”

Auston closes his eyes, his chest feeling warm and pleased even if the ache doesn’t go away.

*

It’s a struggle getting up to his place. Mitch is not as strong as he claims and Auston’s more tired than he expected. He just wants to pass out on his bed. He doesn’t want to have to think. If he thinks, he’ll have to think about how many games he’s going to lose because of this. If he thinks, he won’t be able to ignore the itchy feeling in his chest, like is “injury-prone” going to be another label added to the growing list of ones that Auston already tries to ignore? Auston hates labels. Don’t get him wrong. He’s proud of the fact that he’s from Arizona, that he’s part Mexican thanks to his mother, that he’s one of few omegas to ever be drafted first overall (the very first for the Leafs); all those parts make up who he is. He just doesn’t like having them attached to him, like that’s _all_ he is.

Fuck, he can feel himself getting sniffly.

By the time they get inside and into Auston’s room, Auston is just about ready to give up.

“I hate this.” He throws his good arm over his face. He feels the burn in his eyes, but he’s not going to cry. Not in front of Mitch. He doesn’t want to look like a weak omega in front of Mitch, even if he knows Mitch would be an incredible alpha to him. He can picture Mitch taking care of him, letting him put his head on his lap and stroking his hair, and feeding Auston bites of food from his hands that’ll send shivers down Auston’s spine.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

Auston doesn’t know why Mitch is apologizing. He’s not the one that fucking broke him.

“You’ll get better and you’re going to kill it out there again. Doc already said you’ll be as good as new when you’re all healed up. We’ll take care of things while you’re gone and then you can show the fucking league what Auston Matthews can do. You’re our leader and our future ‘C’ and we’ll need you at one hundred percent.”

Mitch’s voice is kind yet firm, like he doesn’t want to hear any arguments from Auston. Auston hates that it works, that it makes him feel warm and well taken care of. This is exactly how Auston imagined Mitch as a mate, gentle and kind but assertive, the way he always knows what to say and do to make him feel better. He wants to believe that he’s special, that Mitch isn’t like this with anyone else.

“Yell if you need me.”

Auston closes his eyes and waits for the door to close.

He yells as loud as he can, the pillow muffling the sounds that come out.

*

“I’m fine,” Auston says for what feels like the hundredth time. “You and dad don’t need to come up.”

“Are you sure? It wouldn’t be any trouble at all,” his mom insists. “Bree and Alex will be fine on their own.”

“I’m really fine,” Auston says, exasperated. He loves his mom but she can’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that Auston isn’t a child anymore. “If I need anything, Mitch is around to help.”

“Mitch is? Is he staying with you?”

Shit. Auston instantly regrets saying _anything_, because he can sense his mom making a big deal about this.

“Yes, he is,” he says carefully. “Just to help around.” Auston doesn’t mention how much Mitch is helping. His parents don’t need to know that he helps him with all of his meals, chauffeuring him to and from his appointments, and sometimes even helping Auston get dressed when he’s struggling with pulling a shirt over his head. He always checks to make sure the pillows that Auston’s using to support his shoulder are sufficiently fluffed up and he always knows when Auston needs a drink before he even realizes it. It makes Auston feel spoiled and taken care of. He doesn’t know how he’s going to go back from this.

“Oh, that’s _so_ nice, sweetie.”

“It’s not _like_ that Mama.” Auston is trying really hard not to whine, but his mom has that kind of effect of making him feel like he’s five again. “He’s just being a good friend.”

“I’m sure,” she says, even if it’s laced with disbelief, like she thinks she sees something he’s not.

Auston thinks about arguing, but it’s hard to deny how good it feels to have Mitch’s attention on him right now. He likes feeling like he’s the center of Mitch’s focus, like he’s the priority. It feels, it feels really good, and it makes him go warm all over like there’s a little sun burning inside his heart.

“Tell Mitch thanks and that we’ll have to go out for dinner together sometime when we’re in town.”

“I will,” Auston says, and he takes the opportunity to change the subject and ask about his sisters instead. His mom sees right through him, but thankfully, she indulges him anyway. Auston will take it.

*

Mitch spends the entire morning before he has to leave for Pittsburgh fussing over Auston. He’s checked the fridge at least three times and confirmed with the delivery service twice that everything is good and Auston’s not going to starve like his injury has left him completely helpless (okay, he might’ve been milking it for a while when Mitch was around, but he’s fine, _really_; he knows how to take care of himself).

“Patty said you can call Christina if you need anything.”

Auston rolls his eyes. “I _know_. I’m _fine_. Go catch your flight before Babs has my head for making you late.”

“_Fine_,” Mitch grumbles. He already went home to pick up his bag so that he can head straight to the airport from Auston’s place, even though it’s more out of the way. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Auston rolls his eyes, again. If he rolled them any harder, he might roll them straight out of his head. “I’m _fine_.”

“Okay, okay, I got it.”

Mitch leans in to give Auston a side-hug. It’s awkward and leaves Auston aching for more so he presses his face into the crook of Mitch’s neck. He can’t smell anything this late into the season with their suppressants, but Mitch’s skin is soft and warm and if Auston really focuses, he can feel the beat of his heart, this rhythmic _thump-thump-thump_ that’s almost too soothing. Auston feels like he can fall asleep to the sound of that.

Mitch gives him one last squeeze before he pulls them apart. He looks at Auston, his mouth open like he wants to say something, but then he’s shaking his head like he’s trying to shake the words away.

“See you in a couple days,” Mitch says.

Auston frowns. “You’re not coming over tomorrow?”

“It’ll be late when we get in.”

“So?”

“So? You should be resting!”

“I don’t care. You have a key.” Auston doesn’t care if he’s acting like a petulant child right now. He feels like he’s allowed to right now.

Mitch looks like he might protest some more, but he must see something on Auston’s face because his expression suddenly softens. “Okay. Don’t stay up,” Mitch commands sternly.

“No promises.”

Mitch rolls his eyes, but he looks indulgent as he gives Auston’s good arm a squeeze.

When Mitch finally leaves, Auston turns back to his quiet apartment, and tries to ignore how empty it suddenly feels.

*

Mitch doesn’t stop texting him even though the team’s already in Pittsburgh prepping for the game. He keeps reminding Auston to take his meds (but only after meals!), to ice his shoulder if he feels pain, and to rest and relax and try not to be a sulky mess about missing games.

Auston texts back and tells him to score all the goals in the game, and reminds him that he better put on a show since Auston will be watching.

_Aye aye captain!_

It’s a joke, but it still makes something warm and pleased bloom in Auston’s chest. It’s not like Auston actually cares whether he gets the letter or not, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t mean a lot that Mitch is so supportive.

He’s never wanted to walk behind an alpha before, but he’s starting to think that if it’s Mitch, he’d be okay with following him forever.

*

Auston watches the game on the couch with his takeout on his lap. He tries not to get too excited when the Leafs score. But they keep scoring, and scoring, and Freddie keeps shutting out Crosby and the Pens and honestly, Auston thinks it totally warrants a fist pump from the couch, even if it makes his shoulder twinge. He ignores all the intermission crap because he doesn’t need to hear about how JT is totally leading the Leafs in Auston’s absence, as if there’s always been some kind of internal power struggle between them, and he ignores the hosts go at it like it’s the presidential debates over who deserves captaincy like they weren’t ready to hand it to Auston barely a week ago.

He tidies up after the game (and by that he means he puts the containers into the trash and the cutlery into the dishwasher), showers, and puts on The Office as he settles in on the couch to wait for Mitch. His eyes start to feel heavier from one episode to the next, and –

He jolts awake when he feels something touch his side. He hisses as a sharp pain goes down his arm.

“Shit, you okay?”

It’s Mitch.

“I told you not to wait up,” he chastises. “You okay? You need your painkillers?”

“I’m fine,” Auston says as the pain subsides. It’s always disorienting when he first wakes up and expects nothing to be hurting but suddenly everything is. It’s nothing he can’t handle. “What time’s it?”

“Late,” Mitch says unhelpfully. “Come on, up. Gotta get the dumbass into bed.”

Auston scowls at him, or at least he tries, but it breaks into a yawn. Mitch laughs quietly. He must be exhausted too, after playing a game and then hopping on a plane to head home right after. Auston doesn’t fight him as he follows Mitch towards the bedroom, rubbing his face with his hand. Mitch’s hand is wrapped gently around Auston’s wrist, like he thinks Auston’s going to run back to the couch if he doesn’t hold on. It’s almost like they’re holding hands; it feels nice. He thinks he could hold Mitch’s hand forever, like properly, not this tease that doesn’t quite feel like it’s enough.

Mitch tucks him into bed, literally, and he’s got this shit-eating grin as he rearranges the blankets _just so_, like that’ll actually make any kind of difference when Auston will inevitably kick half of them off and then complain when it gets too cold.

“Alright, sleep tight you big baby.”

Auston completely ruins Mitch’s efforts with the blankets when he reaches out to grab his hand before Mitch can actually get up. He’s not sure why he does it, but now that he has, he knows he doesn’t really want to let go, like, _ever_.

“What’s wrong?” Mitch looks worried. He’s got the little crease between his brows as he frowns at Auston, looking up and down like he might find something wrong. “Is something hurting?”

“Stay,” Auston says simply, because he’s not sure he can find the right words to convey what he’s feeling right now. He doesn’t know what makes him feel brave enough to finally act on his feelings, but he doesn’t want to miss his chance. They’re not rookies anymore. There’s going to be a permanent place in the Leafs dressing room for them for as long as they want. There will _never_ be a better time.

“I am staying,” Mitch says with a confused smile, completely missing the point as he points a thumb back towards Auston’s guestroom.

It’s an out. Auston could take it and pretend that’s what he meant, but he doesn’t want to. Mitch spent the last week staying with Auston and taking care of him like a mate would. It’s scary and terrifying and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest and flooding his face with enough heat that it almost makes him lightheaded, but he still _wants_. He knows Mitch isn’t going to be an asshole about this either way. If this goes south, he’ll just hide until his shoulder has healed up enough that he can demand a trade to the furthest team on the other side of the country. The Canucks blue is almost like a knockoff Leafs blue anyway. He’d probably look okay in that.

“Aus?”

Auston closes his eyes.

“I meant, I want you to stay, _here_. With me.”

Auston doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t do _anything_, except let his brain play out all these different scenarios of Mitch laughing in his face for being delusional, of Mitch storming out because he’s pissed, of Mitch not even _caring_, which might be the worst feeling of all.

Auston flinches when he feels something touch his face. He cracks his eyes open to sneak a quick peek and Mitch is still here. Mitch didn’t leave. He’s here and his hands are cupping Auston’s face like he’s something fragile and precious, and he’s got the same soft expression on Mitch’s face that he’s seen so many times before, the one that makes Auston feel special, like he’s the most important thing Mitch has ever laid eyes on. It’s the one that gives Auston _hope_.

“Stop me if this isn’t what you meant.”

Auston meets Mitch half-way, their lips touching carefully like they’re afraid something will shatter this moment between them. The kiss barely lasts a few seconds, this brief little thing that ends before it really even starts. Mitch looks dazed when he pulls back, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening. Auston can’t either.

Mitch leans in to kiss him again, like he needs to make sure, and Auston doesn’t want to stop kissing him,_ ever_. His lips are soft and plush against Auston’s, and he kisses like the way he is on the ice, the way he dictates play with so much skill and finesse. It makes Auston’s toes curl in pleasure, warms him up from head to toe as he wraps his hands around Mitch’s arms to keep him close.

Auston doesn’t know how much time passes by them. They just keep kissing and kissing until one of them finally pulls away to catch their breath. He’s not sure if it’s him or Mitch, but they’re both staring at each other, trying to catch their breath, and Mitch is smiling so wide that it looks like it _hurts_. Auston feels like he’s weightless right now, like he’s been pumped full of helium and he’s just floating, as light as a cloud. It doesn’t feel real.

“You really are a dumbass if you ever thought I wouldn’t want this,” Mitch says, shaking his head in disbelief as he looks into Auston’s eyes. “Such a fucking dumbass.” He says it so fondly that all Auston can focus on is the warmth and affection in his tone.

Auston leans in to kiss him again and lets himself fall into Mitch’s arms as he guides them where to go from here.

*

Auston doesn’t like labels. Never has and never will, but he thinks he’s okay with these new ones: captain and mate.


End file.
